Parallel

beneath his T-shirt, which is lifted slightly from his arms being raised overhead. His back is a shade lighter than his arms are, but his muscles are no less pronounced. Is his butt naturally that perfect or did he work for that? I’m so distracted by the thought that I don’t see Bret’s foot until I trip over it.
    He catches me before I fall. “Careful there,” he says, steadying me.
    “Hey, lemme get a picture,” Kirby says, waving her cell phone and splashing beer on Seth’s leg. “Squish together.”
    “She’s a menace with that camera phone,” Bret whispers to me. As his breath hits my cheek, a lightning bolt of realization rips through me.
    I would have been here.
    Even if our world hadn’t collided with a parallel world, I would have been sitting right here, in this very seat, with these people. I wouldn’t have come to L.A. for Josh, of course. I would’ve already been here for the movie, and I’d probably be at this game as Bret’s date. But I’d be sitting here either way. And thanks to Kirby from Boston, so would Josh.
    We would have met regardless. Even without that astronomy class. Even without my parallel’s help. She got me to him sooner, but I would’ve found him on my own.
    And then, a reality so clear it illuminates everything else.
    I would’ve loved him either way.
    Dr. Mann’s words echo in my head: Your path will change. Your destiny doesn’t. Suddenly, it all makes sense. The path doesn’t dictate the destination. There are detours to destiny, and sometimes that detour is a shortcut. But it’s more than that. Sitting here, in this seat, Bret on one side, Josh on the other—wedged between my past and my future—is exactly where I’m supposed to be. It doesn’t matter how I got here or where I’m going when I leave. The point is that I’m here. In this place, at this moment, with these people. The dots coming together so exquisitely, crystallizing into something greater than the sum of its parts. All of the past made whole in the present. The picture of my life more beautiful than I ever could’ve imagined.
    More beautiful than I ever could’ve planned.
    Le mathématicien. Quelle artiste.
    “Look up,” Josh says, taking my hand in his. “Puts the night sky to shame, huh?” Above us, the sky is a swirl of breathtaking reds and oranges, like the inside of a candle flame.
    “Wow,” I breathe. “It’s—”
    Before I can finish my sentence, the coliseum begins to shake and tremble. Around us, people scream and scurry for cover. “EARTHQUAKE!” someone shouts.
    I look over at Josh, and the world goes dark, then quiet. The shaking intensifies, then stops.
    Out of the silence, I hear the sounds of a crowd cheering. A whistle blowing. People talking and laughing.
    “Earth to Abby.”
    At the sound of Bret’s voice, my eyes fly open. He’s smiling like nothing happened. “What was that?” I ask.
    “You tell me,” he replies with a laugh. “You were sitting there with your eyes closed.”
    I look past him to the crowd. Everyone is smiling and happy. No signs of an earthquake.
    Could I have imagined it? I reach for Josh’s hand, clutching it with both of mine. “I just had the weirdest experience,” I begin, turning in my seat to face him. He’s looking at me in surprise.
    “Uh-oh,” comes Bret’s voice. “Should I be jealous of the new guy?” I look from Josh to Bret, and it is at that moment that I realize that Bret is wearing a different shirt than he was five minutes ago. And I’m . . .
    Holy shit.
    Here with Bret. Not Josh.
    “Hey, I don’t mind,” Josh says then, giving my fingers a squeeze. “It’s not every day I get to hold hands with a movie star.” He laughs and lets go.
    No. Please, no.
    I don’t know how I know, and I can’t explain how it could’ve happened, I just know that it has. As quickly as I lost my real life three months ago, I’ve gotten it back. The people sitting in this row are my cast mates. I live here, in Los Angeles, where these people think I’ve been shooting a movie since May.
    I don’t go to Yale.
    I’ve never met Michael.
    I’ve never dated Josh.
    I close my eyes. This isn’t happening. Please God, don’t let this be happening. Not when I just found my soulmate. Not when I just made things right.
    Bret is quick to pick up my hand, pressing it between his palms.
    “You okay?” he asks. “You look kind of shaken.”
    Shaken. It’s a particularly fitting word, considering.
    I open my eyes and